Rolling Blackout from Jason's Lyric by A.J. Throwback

(Verse)
'86, too adjacent to the places where his kids would hang
Fixin’ in the kitchen, but no pork and beans or chicken franks
Spoon of doom, trouble when it would bubble
Subconscious attacks that would later leave ‘em befuddled
A family full of thinkers, but drinkers between the blinking
But blinking came as a luxury, bubbly had 'em sinking
As their lids started fading, memories would evade 'em
Then wonder why black and whites had to handcuff and degrade 'em
Flip the pages...past stints in the cages
Mad flippant in haste when that bag of liquor enraged
Skip the patience...or when feds performing searches
Nickels and quarters surged 'cause he couldn't ignore the urges
But who's perfect? Word is not even a nerd
Whose lane was with the D.A.R.E. campaign, could abstain
But a ten-year-old lame with brains just ain't the same
At 20, you French kiss Mary Jane and go insane
How insane...well...try mirages of construction fences
Or arcades with flashing lights are mucking up your senses
You hearing Ben Franklin say, "You got me and you're happy
But coming at you is a Blood, stop your staring at me..."
Moving train, brain trying to make a prison break
T-top skull, letting the air in, thinking, "This is great..."
Ate seven half smokes, laugh, joke
Smashed then you crash until two half past, awoke
Months later, your vice morphs into liquid courage
It's the 20th drink and your folks are getting nervous
They try to feed you some pizza to soak the spirits up
You and that slice ain't agreeing, you get to fisticuffs
You take a hit to gut
You can't even stand, so your mans gotta pick you up, made you sicker, spitting up
Your girl caught it on her kicks, still spiffed you up
Sicked your duck, now you sittin' stuck like, "This is love..."
Let's pick it up, circa June 6th, spliff it up
Game One, NBA Finals: "Wow, the Sixers won?"
Delayed reaction, stated the day after
You watched the whole game, but was blazed in a daze, captured
It's all vague, piecing the recollection
Ebony shades your brain, can't see it in retrospective
Light bulb flickers, you seeing that late check
And instantly remember, "Dang, I forgot to pay the electric!”
36 hours is all it takes
Spend too much time in the dark, no telling if you're awake
Whether you're half baked or toasted
Now you're blinded and debating your approaches
Whether it’s bone crusher Saturday on empty stomachs
The only one that knows the way back to the room while all your visitors are simply flummoxed
You give directions, simply rubbish
Just another picker upper, spitting up enough vomit for like fifty drunkards
Your mailbox flooded with late notices
Fine print simply says, "You ain't focused, kid..."
But you forget 'em, shove 'em off in a corner
Next to the Worker's Testament tucked away in that drawer
You hear Jesus, but listened to Johnny Walker
Only one interaction, too rowdy a talker
Spoke the loudest silence while he covered your eyes
Then you rise and reply, "She said we did it...where was I then?"
Bachelor party for younger brother
You're four drinks in, but they pouring you up another
While your brain bubble utters, "I get it...when in Rome
I told 'em that I would drive, so how I'ma get him home?"
Now the liquor gets to thinking for you: "Pick up them keys, Joe
You've done it plenty already? It's a breeze, Joe..."
But it's different when family fastens the buckle
Their life is now in your hands, if you crash, imagine the trouble, bruh, you
Better hope that that accident snubs you out first
'Cause if it doesn't, your mother will cuss you out worse
But in an instant, you're sitting in your Maxima
Scratching up your head, but been a while since you had eczema
"Oh crap, which way did I take him home?
295 or the Douglass?" You struggle to make it known
But tucked away in that zone, you see that paper and phone
Get your lights back, even if plans of payments are gone
You're praising God harder than Baptists and Resurrection
Praying that He forgives you for all your dreaded rejections
Could've been dead, could've been messed up, bad batch of the sticky
Involuntarily laughing, you're scratching, but took a bath, dig me?
Making all these installments via confession
Your blurred vision's restored, see your reflection
You come to...then you're still kinda perplexed
“Why's this operator so busy tryna to whine bout her ex?"
This ain't the company you meant to dial, dumb-dumb
You pressed 7-0-3 thinking it's 9-1-1

(Outro)
Son...I'm not playing when I tell you I totally blacked out
Like...I drove all the way home that night
And I couldn't remember a thing
I just thank God that everything ain't go black for good

• DMV Hip Hop
• Hip-Hop
• Hip-Hop/Rap
• Honest Rap
• Indie Hip Hop
• Rap
• alcoholism
• dmv-d.c
• drunk driving
• hip-hop-r-b
• marijuana
• substance abuse
• Brooklyn Park